


Witches of the North Book 1

by anaoldrin (tricksterfox)



Series: Witches of the North Book 1 [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Gen, LGBT, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Romance, Transmale, Transwoman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 22:43:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 7,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20161324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricksterfox/pseuds/anaoldrin
Summary: Things look bleak for Christopher Hawks, a pretend human living at a boarding school in the Unfrozen – not only is Chris nearing the stresses of the end of his high school education, but last September he shattered the legendary sword of the kingdom of Northland, became the accidental heir to its Throne and is now being tracked down by the elite Hunters – all events being a result of a few unfortunate choices made in order to help a Witch named Winter (who, in turn, also received help from a Witch named Ian).Now, Chris, following Winter’s lead and dragging along a few others with him, is on his way to (reluctantly) reach the current Queen and challenge her to a duel. But it seems that Winter is more than impatient – could there be a deadline to their mission? And why does everything seem a little too easy?





	1. Chapter 1

This is a story about choices.

Each and every choice we make greatly affects each event that befalls us next, or cancels out another, respectively. Our choices are what define our future - no matter what people say about destiny, all it determines is the end of all ends. What we can change is the way we get there.

And so, this is a story of how one small choice, “left or right after the big tree?”, can change ever so much.

It’s also a story about people.

People who are ordinary. People who make mistakes; people who let their logical or illogical minds define them. People who, even when presented with the same choices, walk down different paths. People that are courageous, kindhearted, and generous, who put others before themselves, but are also selfish, afraid, greedy.

Finally, this is a story about perception; because just like whether a choice is good or bad, people's nature also depends on point of view.

After all, our lives are defined by those three things.


	2. [0.2] Before the start, ii

Every beginning of this story starts with death: some inevitable, some unfair, and some that went unnoticed until it was all but too late. But, as texts describing the woes of jealousy, fear, and war are an overused auxiliary, what you’re about to read starts smack dab in the middle. If one had to go back to the beginning and tell you _everything,_ that would mean writing a hundred pages of something that is just as easily found in Northland’s historical archives (also known as the Legend), and is most likely to be used for something such as a book report.

So instead what shall be presented now, in what will hopefully be a short overview, is how some parts of the story really started:

Decades before everything in the world took its place, a goddess gave her life to save her country. 

At some point much, much later a civil war inside Northland broke out – for now, that is all that needs to be said of _that_ beginning.

Twenty years later, sometime around the beginning of a September, a boy named Christopher Hawks (remember that name!) was discovered to be the holder of one of the Seven Stones of the Kisow. 

The Kisow, or the Sword of Kings, traditionally gave its bearer the right to be King, or Queen, of The Northern Lands of Aurora, the only country on the West Arctic island of the Globe. For the twenty years following the war, the Kisow had been sealed away in Northland, having lost all of its power. You should know that, as a sword, it wasn’t very magical and could have easily been used like any other normal weapon. Official information had it that the sword was in the Queen's possession, but in reality that was a copy – the real sword was chained up in a chapel on Nose Crimsondawn. The Kisow relied on seven Stones that were said to have been carved of pure, solid Ice Magic, and without them it was impossible to separate the blade from the wall. 

It was a ridiculous notion that one of the seven Stones would end up outside of Northland: first of all, people said, obviously all of the Stones would be where they belonged – on the handle of the Kisow, locked up in the Queen's vault. But the fact remained that one of those seven was in Chris’s possession (hopefully you didn’t forget him). Someone, somehow, had managed to make a pendant out of it, and it had ended up with Chris’s father, and later passed on to Chris himself.

So, in that particular September, Chris’s Stone was discovered by a Witch of the name Winter Icetorm, the suddenly-alive princess of Northland who had reportedly been assassinated twenty years back. Winter's initial plan was to simply requisite the Stone from him, but Chris somehow managed to convince her to allow him to accompany her on the journey.

Winter’s original plan had been as follows:

  * Place the seventh Stone in its respectful place in the Kisow’s handle, next to the other six;

  * Be the first one to take hold of the now “unlocked” sword;

  * Challenge the current Queen of Northland to a duel;

  * Win;

  * Become the new Queen, respectively.

This very simple plan went horribly wrong when Chris, out of no more than chivalry, was the one who first placed his hands upon the unlocked Kisow. His intentions, as he later tried to explain countless times, were to simply take the weapon and hand it down to Winter. Chris’s own plan backfired on him when his kind gesture made him King of Northland, or at least gave him the power to become King if he challenged the Queen and won. 

At that time, the actual Queen of Northland – Nephrite – had found out about all of this. Having no intention of handing her Throne over to anybody, she sent a cavalry of Hunters, Northland’s police force, to capture them. 

From Nose Crimsondawn Chris and Winter, accompanied by a nobleman Witch carrying the name Christian White (also known as Ian) fled to the region of the werewolves: Fang. It didn’t do them much good, as two days later the Hunters caught up with them and, during a fierce chase through the woods of the forest Boreas, the Kisow shattered. 

It was something no one ever thought possible, but the reason was quite simple: the Kisow possessed a certain amount of magic-cancelling abilities granted by the Stones that worked like a shield around the weapon and its bearer. The upside of this was that during battle, both the sword and its wilder were protected from being frozen stiff by a Witch. The downside was that the magic only worked when the Kisow was in the hands of its bearer. During the battle in the woods, to his great misfortune, Chris made a wrong turn, slipped, and hit his head. When he came to, surprisingly with no more than a dizzy sensation, he found out (from Ian, who was hurling curses nearby) that the sword had flown out of its fingers, had been frozen mid-air by a passing spell and had crashed into a tree.

In the time it took the Hunters to find them all, Chris had enough time to sweep out of the snow the only one of the Stones that hadn’t turned to ice (his own) and run for the Border.

Having all of her initial plans ruined, Winter told Chris that it would be best if they lay low for a while until things in Northland cooled down. Then, when she’d made a new plan, she would find him again and ask him to fight for the Crown in her stead. Until that time, Winter had said, she would not be in contact with him, and _no_, he wasn’t allowed to know where she would go. Ian, meanwhile, would return to his studies in the Crystal region (location: Northland) and would eventually be asked to help out as well, again, if he wished - to which Ian had said that yes, he did.

This, as formerly stated, was part of the beginning. 

The rest are the results. And as repetitions are a bore, the end may quite differ from the beginning. Or not. Life, unlike literature, cares not for bores in repetitions.

Find out for yourselves.


	3. [1.1] November, i

There should be some difficulty in determining what, for a heart in love, was a more trying matter: fleeing from an army unit armed from toe to tooth, or being away from the heart’s beloved.

Despite both those matters being true for him, at the moment Christopher Hawks was quite content, if somewhat tired. Stepping out into the cold air, he took a deep breath. Freezing wind blew into his throat and he coughed, covering his mouth.

Squinting against the bright blue sky, he smiled: good weather this time of year was a rarity he had learned to appreciate. 

Someone bumped into him and he moved away from the school entrance, avoiding being trampled by the students behind him who spilled out into the campus grounds. 

Tearing his eyes away from the sky, Chris glanced at his phone screen for the time. A photo of a snowy camping trip him and Daniel had gone on last weekend greeted him from the lock screen, and he was informed that the time was well past 1PM.  


There wasn’t any reason to be in a hurry other than the prospect of finishing homework early – he simply didn’t like being shoved into the walls by the growing crowd just because Daniel hadn’t had the decency to bring Julia out here and talk on their way to the dorms for once...

Something flew past him and he snapped around to look. A large icicle was sticking out of the wall beside his left ear, gravity slowly pulling it down until it fell with a low crash. Steadying his breath and ignoring his racing heart, Chris traced the probable source of the icicle to a group of laughing male Witches a few steps away from the entrance, close to where he’d been standing.

“Real mature,” Chris mumbled under his breath. 


	4. [1.1]  Daniel, i

“Move aside, children!”

A voice startled the group from behind, and they shuffled to make way for a tall dark boy who looked to be all elbows and a backpack.

“Using magic outside of class on school grounds is not allowed, you know. Better watch out before someone more responsible than me sees you.”

Daniel gave the Witches a conspiring wink and Chris laughed as they scurried off, glaring. 

“Be nice, Dan. Haven't you ever learned about respecting your elders?”

Daniel laughed, and Chris tripped him.

“I told you something about respecting your elders, Daniel.”


	5. [1.1]  November, ii

“You looked really out of it over there. Thinking about Winter?”

Chris shook his head. “No, not really.”

This time, at least.

“I'll be completely frank with you, Christopher--”

“What a shock.”

“I don't believe even the hairs on your head. Can’t you just _call _her so you can calm down already?” 

“Great plan, except I don't have her number, nor do I know anyone who does,” Chris sighed, exasperated, and fixed the strap of the bag over his shoulder. “And I don’t know where she is, either,” he added before Daniel could ask – _again_. “She graduated last year, so she’s probably back home, no? For now, anyway.”

“Well, then call the cafe and ask.”

“Sure, 'cause that's not creepy at all. _If I were you_, I’d worry about the pop quiz we had today.”

“Yeah, but I’m not.” Daniel stretched, his eyes closed. Chris shook his head, feeling a light smile coming on. Of course, _Daniel_ could afford slacking off – he didn't even have to suck up to pass. Chris shuddered to think what would happen if his friend wasn’t so lazy; Daniel would probably be transferred straight up to university.

_...And_ probably beat Chris at everything, a task not in itself difficult, considering that Chris’s only strong subjects were history and the specific science-theory behind Ice magic (a laughably small portion of biology, but he’d made it into a point to know more than the teachers themselves on the subject.) 

Chris asked, “So, how was Julia? Did you have another argument?”

Daniel friend stared at the tall campus buildings blankly. “Just a continuation of yesterday’s. But we’re still going out, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“I suppose that qualifies as good?”

Daniel ignored his question. “Hey, do you have your notes from history? I want to see if I can memorize something before lunch.”

“You should really get into the habit of having your things on you. Hold on.”


	6. [1.1] Chris, i

A few minutes later, Daniel had buried himself in the requested notes, and Chris took the time to breathe in the fresh autumn air while he was still outside. The exam period was going to start soon, and considering his grades, Chris didn’t think he would have much time to spend outdoors in the coming weeks, beautiful as it might be. Going up to hike in the mountain in the snow was probably not the best idea him and Daniel had ever had, and they'd probably gotten rather lucky that the day had turned out to be so clear, but he was grateful they'd done it. There was not much that Chris hated more than being holed up in his room for weeks on end. With all this homework, he didn't even have much time to go on morning walks anymore.

Christopher Hawks, with his common brown hair that sometimes covered even more common brown eyes, really had nothing to dazzle the world with apart from an exceptional level of sucking at Hunting. The only quality he had ever heard that stood out in him was an “irritating, winning, charming smile”, one he did try to put to use, although, as one of his Hunt teachers had pointed out in the past, a good smile may be good for business but it was no help with grades or hitting a target.


	7. [1.1] November, iii

“Chris, you listening?” 

“Yeah, yeah, what?”

“There’s a police car in front of our building.” 

Daniel was right: there really _was _a police car parked in the usually empty spot on the snow packed lane (not even university students were allowed to bring cars on campus after an incident involving a grand amount of colorful smoke emitted from the back of a convertible car driving around the dorms two years ago). With the feeling of relief, Chris noted that the car was not pitch black with a dark purple emblem, which would have meant that the Hunters of Northland had found him, a prospect he didn’t enjoy thinking of.

“That’s odd…” 

“Hey, maybe the seniors have decided to pull one of their pranks again!”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Chris chuckled and pushed the double doors open. The noise of chattering and whispering washed over them as the doors revealed a hallways bursting with students. It seemed like no one was allowed to leave the floor, and the air was packed with excitement.

Daniel turned to one of the juniors. “What’s going on?” 

“Bunch of cops and a detective guy came looking for someone, I think.”

They were shushed and the chatter died down. Everyone gradually turned their gazes towards the main stairs where the dorm master, George Framely, was standing. He announced:

“We are looking for Christopher Hawks.” 

Everyone glanced around anxiously. There were murmurs. 

“Is he present?” Framely asked, scanning the entrance hall. “Hawks?”


	8. [1.1] Chris, ii

“Officer... Settle,” (the teacher was addressing the man in the suit, Chris supposed), “this is Christopher Hawks.”

Palms starting to sweat, Chris said, “Hello.” 

“Ah, so this is Christopher!” A smile lit up Settle’s face as he stood up and gave Chris a short, slippery handshake. He sat back down again. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Adrian Settle, from the local police authorities. I need to have a chat with you; I hope you are not in a hurry. Please, sit.”

Somewhat frazzled by the amount of words Settle had managed to utter in such a short time, Chris sat down, his confusion deepening.

Adrian Settle added, “Come to think of it, I’d like to speak with him in private. Would you mind…?”

Framely’s eyes narrowed. “I would. He is an underage student and it’s out of the question that you would question him without my being present.”

Settle raised his eyebrows. “Out of the question to question him?”

Framley's face took on a pink tint. “Yes.”

Adrian Settle gave the teacher a long, measuring look, and said:

“Very well. But please, stand by the door over there.”

After a minute under Settle’s unwavering eyes, Framely gave him a stiff nod and complied. 

Mr. Settle looked Chris in the eye.

“So, Christopher. I hope you’re doing well enough to answer some questions.” Without waiting for an answer, he continued, “The matter is as follows: we periodically double-check all documents stored in the city’s files, copy them, you know how it is… and yours gave us quite a bit of a headache, Chris.” 

“I don’t… understand.” He didn’t like the direction of this conversation _or _the way this man talked down to him as if he was five year old.

Adrian Settle opened the folder in front of him, picked out a piece of paper and slid it across the small table over to Chris. He didn’t pick it up, but did examine it. Whatever it was, his name was on it.

“I suppose you recognize this. It’s the long form, but I do not believe you haven’t seen at least a copy of a birth certificate before.” 

Chris frowned. Now he was more confused than ever. 

“Uh, I guess?” 

Settle looked at Framely standing by the door and lowered his voice. “I do not wish more people than necessary to hear my following words; I will not beat around the bush: we have reason to believe that the original of yours is a fake. Of all your documents, really.”

Chris didn’t think that strange; he was born in Northland and not, as the documentation he generally used stated, in one of the eastern regions of the North Central continent. 

He decided not to answer Mr. Settle for now.

“I need to know if you remember anything from your childhood.” Settle pulled out a small notepad from his inner pocket, equipped with a matching little silver pen. It had a tiny smooth ball at its rear end.

Chris’ reply was short. “No, sorry.”

Settle leaned back. “May I see your ID, please?”

“Um…” The request took him by surprise. “My wallet isn’t on me…”

Settle clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Where is it?”

“In-in my bag, I left it with a friend of mine, he’s probably outside--”

“Mr. Framely!” Adrian Settle summoned the teacher with a wave of his hand. “Would you be so kind as to go and fetch the boy’s belongings from his friend, undoubtedly someone who is waiting for him by the door?”

Mr. Framely growled, but apparently didn’t want to disobey a man of Adrian Settle’s position. After he shuffled out, Chris was rewarded with a bright smile.

“That’s better. We can talk more freely now. …Help us out.” After getting silence as an answer, Settle’s smile wore off and he sighed. “Look, your mother is on her way to getting into trouble. So far it seems that someone’s been closing their eyes to all the documents she’s been using,” Settle motioned at the folder, “moreover, they are skillfully forged so we have no real proof, however…well, you understand, do you not?” 

The man paused and waited for a response.

“I had a normal childhood, officer,” Chris said after a moment. “We moved from another state and I started school, then I came here to finish my education. Who… who remembers much from before they were ten?” The boy tried to put on the best polite expression he could. “I don't think anything's forged.”

“Would that mean you’ve lived at your current home for… thirteen years? Not more?” Adrian Settle narrowed his eyes, his smile returning with a hint of smugness.

Chris froze. He knew, Adrian Settle  _ knew _ . 

He tried not to let his expression betray his thoughts.

A detail that Chris didn’t usually mention was that he was a Hach – half Witch - and another detail he regarded as unimportant was that he was actually twenty-three. Because of the Hacches’ and Witches’ slow aging, they would all start school at a much later age than humans and by looks and mentality, he was seventeen bordering on eighteen all over. Until now, no one had been able to tell.

“I don’t understand--”

“I know you are a Hach, Chris. Obviously, your documentation says you’re human and lies about your age; let’s just say I have a sixth sense. The problem here isn’t what you are – the government couldn’t possibly care less even if you were a gnome– but we need the documentation to be genuine, don’t we?” 

At this moment, Mr. Framely returned with heavy, echoing steps.

“Ah, you’re back… took a little too long, we straightened things out here.” After receiving a dirty glare from the other man, Adrian Settle added, “But thank you, Mr. Framely.”

Chris stood up, at this point not even trying to be polite. He recovered his bag from the dorm master and turned to Adrian Settle.

“Officer, uh, Settle, I’m sorry. I don’t think I can help you. I have a lot of homework to work on, and I’m already behind, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“Ah, yes, yes.” Settle stood up with grace and pulled out a business card from an inner pocket of his jacket. “You have to stay focused on your studies… do contact me if you, hm, remember anything?”

“Of course.” Chris took the card and another slippery handshake later, he was out.


	9. [1.1] Winter, i

More famous and far more expensive than its size suggested, perpetually full of either workers from a nearby factory, faces from the neighborhood ,or tourists clutching a guide for which locales to visit during their stay, _The Canary _stood on the corner between two streets in a town in one of the states of the North Central continent. 

The place had the general look of a diner and had everything you would expect: a big neon sign outside, booths and walls in bright colors, a small antique library in one of the corners,smiling staff, and was filled with the aroma of cinnamon at all times. The radio was usually blasting old rock pieces unless the owner, Nora, decided she was in the mood for classical music. All in all, it was a place where you could find yourself losing a tidy sum from the contents of your wallet and have no complaints whatsoever.

One of the waitresses was setting down two teacups on a table in one of the booths. She was a Witch with long black hair, neatly tied back, and was wearing a white apron over her dark uniform.

One of the customers seemed to be in one of those moods: “You’re marryin’ one of _them_? Might as well marry a damn wolf, Witches, the lot of them! Blazed elves think they own the Globe, don’t they, callin' us Unfrozen, like we the ones in their blazed way—“

“Dad,” a nervous girl across from him started patiently, shooting the waitress an apologetic glance, “if you don't want to come, don't. Just--”

Winter Icetorm – Volpe if you looked at her ID - set down a piece of cheesecake next to the tea, followed by the check.

“A country the size of a flea is tryinna lump us all together after infecting us with their magic and Ice Ages! They’re tryinna put me with the same bunch as the Siberians! Northern folk, high and mighty! To the deserts with them, if you ask me--” 

As Winter was walking away, she heard the man go on:

“\--Northland is none more than a frozen desert!”

“Then you don't have to come to my wedding!”

Winter held in the urge to go back and freeze the man’s lips together. She found a distraction in taking an order from three men, all of whom appeared to be Witches.

“\--That clown said that there isn’t anything he can do for me, because apparently statistics showed Summer Witches’ got more tired than us.”

“Blazed deserts.”

“So then I told him—“

“May I take your order?” Winter asked, pen ready.

The third man, who wasn’t a part of the conversation, said:

“Ehh… one espresso macchiato… Carl? Siegel?”

“We do the same flaming work—oh, black coffee for me, short,” Carl said.

Siegel nodded. “Same.”

Carl turned back to Siegel and continued “We  _all _ have to charge clothes, don’t we? Why can't  _ we _ get a raise then?”

“Thank you.” Winter walked away and reached the counter right one of her coworkers, Alex, was laying out some freshly-baked croissants in the display. She gave Winter a bright smile.

Winter said, “One espresso and two black coffees, and the check for table three.”

Another waitress, Sherry, arrived with a scowl.

“I hate Mondays,” she announced, putting a tray of empty cups down.

Alex chirped from behind the counter:

“You should be happy for the business, Sherry. Coming right up, Winnie.”

“Don't call me Winnie.”

Sherry rolled her eyes. “I want to hear you say that when Nora works you like a dog next week, Alex! Oh, and I need one strudel, one hot chocolate with whipped cream and a--”


	10. [1.1] Nora, i

On her way back from the table with the three Witches who were unhappy about their wages, a waiter who was going in the opposite direction stopped her.

“Winter, Nora said she wanted to talk to you.” He pointed up. “And table two needs you when you’re back.”

Wondering what could Nora need her for at peak hour, Winter wiped her hands on her apron and hurried upstairs.

Upon entering Nora’s office, Winter couldn’t help take a quick look around: each time she entered Nora’s office, something was different. Nora Volpe’s office was a shrine to antiques, and the werewolf’s hobby was no secret among collectors; more than once the woman got sensational offers for some of the rarer items she possessed. Rumor had it that she’d bought the place for The Canary with the money she’d received for a small jewel. She always did love doing business with just about anyone who could prove their wealth, so things often seemed to disappear from her interior decor, and other strange things came in their place. And sure enough, this time a tall bronze vase was missing from her desk, replaced with what looked like a box that had its legs shaped like a cat’s. Giving it a slight, disturbed look, Winter turned her attention towards her caretaker. 

Nora herself was tall, with a square sort of face. Like most werewolves, she had silver hair, broad shoulders and four black dots underneath her right eye, which indicated her position as a fourth child in the family. Nora liked vintage dresses and heavy jewelry that gave the impression that she had ended up in the wrong era – and today was no exception. Everything she wore, down to the shape and color of her glasses, had an expensive, dated feel to it, something that Winter had learned to accept without question. 

She'd seen stranger attires in Northland anyway.


	11. [1.1] Winter, ii

“'Tis came in for you this morning, pup, but I hadn’t the chance to hand it over 'til now.” 

Winter sank into a puffy chair by the desk and opened the letter.

When she finished reading, she looked up. “I'll be leaving again”

“Will'e come to pick you up again?”

“Yes.”

“And you shan't be back for a long time, I'm supposing. And no talking it over makes a difference with you.”

Winter decided not to answer that. Instead, she stood up and said, “Will that be all?”

Nora watched her for a while before nodding.

“Yes-- oh, no, no, 'ne more thing. That one who fancies himself Boss needs our fridge charged again. Magic’s just 'bout to run out.”

Winter sighed. “I will need a day off to do that, but it's really busy now.”

“I know, pup, but new products arrived from Northland th'other day… snow troll milk, you know him tastes, he only trusts _you_ with the magic levels in there. I’ll give you ‘_few _days off, cross my heart. The rest can handle the rest.”

Wondering if this was some elaborate plan to tire her enough so she wouldn't leave, and feeling her energy sapped already, Winter nodded.

“I’ll finish my shift and get to it.”

“Thank you, puppy.”


	12. [1.1]  The Stone, i

It was late evening and, exhausted, Chris finally slumped back on the pillow. He hadn’t gone to dinner with Daniel and their roommate, opting instead to stay in his room and study in the company of snacks. 

Too tired didn’t even _begin_ to describe how he felt. 

Chris fiddled around with a stone attached to a leather strap around his neck, sinking into his thoughts as his fingers traced the familiar object.

It was small, about the size of a hazelnut, and felt like any stone you might typically find by a riverbank. It was of a dark teal color, and Chris had been informed that by origin it was a modified hematite gemstone – the usual material that most batteries and energy sources in Northland were made of. Chris had noticed that the Stone was always cold to the touch; he expected that this was the result of the magic treatment it had gone through to become one of the of Kisow’s Seven Stones. He wondered if that was somehow related to the fact that this Stone had been the only one to remain intact after that unfortunate incident back in September... 

Stopping the thought before it could fully form and roar down the tracks of guilt,Chris sighed and put the stone back under his shirt. A long time ago his mother had told him where it had come from and what it probably was, and she’d advised him to keep it a secret; it was what Chris had been doing for years now until Winter discovered it.

Of course, Chris didn't manage to stop himself from thinking of Winter again, with butterflies around a ball of guilt in his stomach. She’d told him she didn’t know when she’d come back to get him, and so he’d been on standby since September. She’d asked him to help her gain her crown back even _after_ his fiasco with the sword, which made him indescribably happy. … Though even if she hadn't asked, he would have offered to help her. 


	13. [1.1] November, iv

The door flew open and Daniel marched in with a plastic box full of rice and some meat that his friend handed him. 

“Ooh, thanks! Where’s Furman? And you didn't bring me a fork.”

Milo Furman was their roommate and the owner of the pet chameleon, proudly named Camelot, that was currently lazing about in a tank by one of the beds.

“Still at dinner, trying to chat up some girl from his university building. He has forks in his drawer.”

Chris put the food on his nightstand and fell back on the pillow.

“Chris,” Daniel started, sitting behind the desk and turning on his laptop. “I feel like I have to ask... about that whole Kisow business...”

Daniel was, of course, well-informed of the situation; since they had known each other since Chris could remember being truly alive, and considering the things Daniel himself had shared, Chris would have trusted him with his life.

“Since it’s shattered, are you still... you know, King or whatever?”

“Uh, actually, the term Winter used was ‘Almost-King’,” Chris groaned. 

“Yeah, that.”

“I don’t know... in theory... but... with things as they are now...”

“So, wait, if things hadn’t gone wrong and Winter had unlocked the sword...?”

“She would have been able to get her throne back, yeah.” Chris rubbed his eyes.

“And now?”

“I have no idea. I'm still waiting for her to come get me and tell me the plan.”

Daniel checked his e-mail, then proceeded to try and win a staring contest with Camelot. For a few long minutes there was only silence, until he exclaimed: 

“That guy! Was he here because of your absence? Does he know anything?”

“Ah, no, actually...”

In short, Chris updated Daniel on his conversation with Adrian Settle. The other boy remained serious. Breaking eye contact with the chameleon, he said:

“That’s weird.”

“What is?”

“I don’t know, the way you described him… are police officials that straightforward? Shouldn’t he have gone to your mother first or something? And why did he come here and didn't call you over to the station?”

“I don’t know?”

When Chris thought about it, it did seem strange. But then again, everything about that man, from his toothy smile to his faintly ash colored skin, was strange to begin with.

“So... you’re an Almost-King with no sword, no princess and no plan, chased by a possible detective. Cool.”

“When you put it like that, Daniel, it makes me want to break my leg so I can go home.”

“Look on the bright side, you still haven’t been discovered by any Hunters or Stareaders from Northland.” He paused. “Do you think there’s any way they’ll find you?”

Chris covered his face and wailed. “How did I end up in this mess?”

“I think the answer is fairly obvious, loverboy...”

“Oh, shut up--” 

The conversation was interrupted by the low ring of Chris’s cell phone. Not knowing whether to anticipate a panicked voice or just a clueless check-in call, he picked up.

“Hey, mom. No, it’s a good time. How’re you?”


	14. [1.1] November, v

“The MaMEx scores are out!” 

The next morning, on their way to breakfast, Daniel dragged Chris by the shoulder to the main entrance, where a commotion seemed to be forming. They pushed their way through the crowd to see the hung up lists.

**(Pause)**

'MaMEx' was a common short name for the ‘Magic Training Mock Exams’ – a misrepresentation for what were simply monthly assessments of what the Witches had learned during their Magic training at school. The process had gained the name of a ‘mock exam’ due to the common belief that it was just a warm up for the Witches’ final at the end of twelfth grade. 

The results were always put up on the school's notice board by the cafeteria, and the non-Witch students often placed bets on which of the examined would get the best score.

**(Continue)**

Daniel scanned the names until he got to the top ten. 

“Blazes!” he exclaimed. “Scott was ranked first _again_? I owe Scholer way too much now!”

“You bet _against _Scott?” Chris looked at his friend in wonder. “I don’t know why you’re surprised. Winter’s been top of that class since the sixth grade and Scott comes right after. Without her around...” 

“No, I mean, you never know, a small rock might be stuck in an unfortunate shoe and make one distracted…” 

Chris smiled. “Would have to be a pretty big rock to distract Alton Scott.” Then he remembered something “Oh, Gods, this means he'll have another one of his I-swear-it-was-just-a-small-thing-I-don't-know-why-the-whole-floor-is-suddenly-in-ruins parties, we better hide...”

“Really, you don't want to go?”

"A bunch of drunk Witches trying to make ice statues of each other? Thanks, I'll pass. Remember what happened last time?" Chris raised an eyebrow at him, and added in a slight sing-song voice, "Christ is in the bathroom by himself..."

“Come on, Chris, that was one time, and I told you, I thought you'd gone back to our room already--” 

Chris rolled up his eyes and imitated a sock puppet with his hand as they pulled out of the crowd. 

He said, “You should take Julia, though, she might appreciate spending time with you.”

“I guess so.” Daniel suddenly whined, louder, “_Seriously,_ I won’t be able to stand Scholer’s smug face...”

“Wait, do you mean Melody Scholer?”

“No, her little brother, Tommy.”

“Isn’t he a seventh grader?”

“Seven and eight graders are always the pushiest about bets. And man, the little brats are right most of the time, too!”


	15. [1.1] November vi

“Oi, the man of the hour!” 

Milo Furnman gave Chris a pat on the back. “You know,” he added, piling sausages onto his plate, “you’ll be the school’s main topic for a while?”

Only now Chris did notice stares and murmurs around him. He reached for a jug of juice and poured some with one hand while moving a toast to his plate with the other. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Everyone’ll be discussing this for days!”

Milo, a student of Finance and Trade at the school’s university department, a boy of an Inuit descent, had been his and Daniel’s roommate since their first day at Bluestone. In spite of that, Chris had never grown particularly close to him, and Milo’s tendency to never get to the point irritated him.

Chris sighed and turned to his other pool of information – the sitting in front of him, looking around for the bet winners with a nervous expression, Daniel.

“What's he talking about, Daniel?”

“Ah, well, it’s that detective. Apparently now everyone thinks you’re either a murderer or a fugitive. I forgot you weren’t at dinner last night, so you don’t know.” 

“Oh.” Chris tried to keep his expression sealed, taking a long sip from his juice. He really didn’t fancy being the school’s hot news.

“Don’t worry, we know you’re neither.” The smile Daniel gave him did not make Chris feel any better about it. 

“Or at least we hope you’re not!” Milo exclaimed. Chris wanted to kick Milo’s smile all the way to the Capital of Northland, but instead he said:

“Daniel, if the boy with the funky hair and the braces is Tommy Scholar, he’s coming right this way. And if my memory regarding faces hasn’t gone already, I think that’s his sister dragging him by the ear.”

Daniel very calmly looked up from his plate. Then, still with the calmest possible expression, said, “Oh, look, Julia’s waiting for me right over there! Chris, cover for me, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

A second later Daniel was gone.

Milo snickered and went back to talking with an attractive senior who looked like he was about to throw his drink in Milo's face, while Chris tried to stall Melody Scholar and her temper.


	16. [1.1] Settle, i

“I don’t know if it was really him,” the man spoke into the phone receiver, massaging his temple. He was sitting in a small coffee shop in the center of town. “He was definitely a Hach with falsified documentation, but I couldn’t get anything out of him directly. A lot of people moved from Northland around the end of the War, so he could have been just some kid from the same period. But if it was him, he’s here. I don’t know if he plans on going anywhere. …Same name, yes.”

Adrian Settle listened to the voice on the other end for a while, his expression hardening.

When it stopped, he said, “No, I couldn’t sense it.”

More talking.

“I think it is in the school, but I wouldn't wager money on that. I’d only be able to tell within close proxi—yes, I realize the trouble you had to go through for me to—yes, of course I’m aware of the possible consequences—”

He huffed as the voice cut him off again.

“Look, you paid me to speak to the boy and check him out. I did that. My job is done.”

He wanted to add that, for the love of the stars of Andromeda and Pegasus, they could have hired anyone else and gotten even less results – but he didn’t. A private detective wasn’t allowed to go that far. The police car and the two policemen, as well as the documents, had all been provided by his client, and Mr. Settle only thanked his lucky star, whichever it was, that the boy, nay, _the teacher_, had never caught on to his small act. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered what could have possibly led someone to believe that a plain boy like that actually owned one of the Stones. He didn’t dwell on that. 

Finally, the voice asked about the owed amount. Adrian Settle leaned back on the wall of the booth and voiced it with a suppressed sigh of relief. He was glad to be done with this. 


	17. [1.1]  November vii

Chris was slowly nodding off. It had been a taxing night and he had gotten up early the next day to complete homework. Right now, he couldn’t remember why he’d decided it would be a good idea; final school year or not, he thought that perhaps staying up nights on end just to complete work wasn’t going to help him in the long run. Chris closed his eyes.

“Got ‘em!” 

“What--?” 

Someone shoved something under his nose and he looked up. Daniel was grinning down at him.

“Tickets to Rio! We have a vacation starting in Decemberrrrr.... and I thought going to a place that’s a bit warmer wouldn’t do us baddddd... Don't you remember?”

“What?” Chris repeated, trying to get his thoughts to move faster. “Us? Ah. Yeah. We did talk about something like that…”

Daniel sighed and pulled up a chair from a nearby desk.

“Yep, and my mom,” he stated, “managed to get three tickets to Rio and a hotel. Julia’s coming too!”

“Oh, I dunno, Daniel… a trip with you guys?” Chris struggled not to yawn. “Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“Why would it be weird?” Daniel rolled up his eyes. He whispered, leaning closer, “Look, you don’t know how Julia is at new places… I'll need some support here...”

Chris groaned. “Are we going to stay at the same place as before? I know it was cheap, but do you remember the--”

“I'm not _that_ rich, dude. We’ll have to deal with the blinking lights and stuff. It's either that or going to tia Maria's.”

“It’s the insects the size of small dogs that bother me, but if the alternative is your aunt's....”

Daniel smiled. “Thought you'd say that! By the way, my mom got permission from yours already.”

“Oh, right, she mentioned something when she called last night…so I’m coming no matter what?”

“Pretty much. You need a good break, man!” 


	18. [1.1]  Daniel, ii

Daniel was taller and broader than Chris, his hair styled into dreadlocks was dark and suited his tanned skin and dark smiling eyes. Only a few freckles tattooed across his cheeks seemed out of place somehow, but Daniel Souza (human) couldn’t be bothered by – in his own words – “People’s irrelevant opinions”. He was rarely bothered by “People’s irrelevant opinions”, as it seemed after a few hours spent in his company. He had a habit of coming up with sudden and evidently very exciting ideas - such as going to certain regions on the S.C.C. on vacations, in this case the city-state of Rio de Janeiro. Daniel was, as most people would put it, ‘Southern’, and even though the country wasn’t his birthplace, he had an extended family there that he claimed he had to visit more often than strictly necessary. And, of course, he took Chris along almost every time. Sometimes they just went for a vacation. Daniel's parents seemed to be fine with just about anything their son did as long as he didn't max out any credit cards.


	19. [1.1]  November, viii

Despite the fact that Chris tried to show as little enthusiasm as possible, he was secretly looking forward . It was going to be a nice change of scenery and a good break from his usual routine. On the other hand, Chris couldn’t help but sigh over the fact that he was going to spend his holiday with a lovey-dovey couple. The last time he’d gone to the S.C.C - it had been, again, courtesy of Daniel’s mother - Daniel still wasn’t going out with Julia and he and Chris had taken two other boys with them: the laid-back Milo Furman, their current roommate, and a boy of the name Jared Amaryllis (who had been transferred to another school a few months later for unknown reasons and they hadn’t heard from him since). They’d all had a good time even though the hotel had been of a questionable standard. 

Chris scrunched his nose. The upcoming holiday was the only one they ever got aside from the summer break. Mixed schools like theirs gave only one vacation around New Year’s due to the insistence that Witches had to study more than the other students. Daniel often moped about it, but Chris wasn’t one to complain: the vacation started on the 3rd of December and continued until the 2nd of January. Chris remembered bitterly that this was going to be his last good break for a while: things for the twelfth grade would look grim from January until their finals in May. The holiday dates seemed more reasonable to him even though he knew that it would all probably end with him and Daniel sitting around in gloom over their final months at the school and the pressure of thinking ahead. Neither of them was certain of what they wanted to do after high school - Daniel had expressed a desire go to into a business-oriented university, but didn’t seem to have his heart in the idea. Chris didn’t even have a lead.

But they were probably going to have fun anyway, and Chris would at last have one final break where he’d be allowed not to think about his future. 

He heard the teacher enter the room and focused his eyes on the board up front. 

Just a bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's the end of chapter 1! i have fragmented the chapters like this for a specific reason, so i decided to post them on ao3 in the same format as well.  
please let me know what you think!   
will post ch2-3 later today to catch ao3 up with other websites.

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU
> 
> IF YOU ENJOY THIS WORK please consider subscribing to my tapas as well! https://tapas.io/anaoldrin


End file.
